


What Eyes Cannot See

by Sethrine



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blind!Reader, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Ghosts, Heartwarming, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attack, Silly banter, Spirits, Undecided Relationship(s), Worldbuilding, slight angst, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-20 15:53:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11338596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sethrine/pseuds/Sethrine
Summary: "After the accident, blue was the only color I thought I could see, the only thing Icouldsee, like staring at a sheet of paper with nothing else in sight. It was only ever one hue, bleak and pale when a light source was present, and darker than midnight when there was none. Now, looking back, I can’t help but wonder if blue was really what I saw, or if my body was trying to ease me into the fact that I was suddenly blind.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this concept for a long time, and I finally got around to writing a little something for It! I'll definitely be adding more in the future, as I want to expand on it more.
> 
> I would also love to hear from you guys! Let me know what you think!

“My favorite color when I was a little girl had to be the color blue. Dark, light, neon, pastel, it didn’t matter the shade or hue or saturation. I just loved it.” 

You took in a long, deep breath, let it out just as slowly. 

The sun was fading over the horizon. You could tell just by the fading rays of warmth against your skin and the slow darkening of your vision, the change in the temperature and how the air cooled with the disappearance of the brightest star in the sky, making way for tiny white dots smattering over the darkest of blues, or so you remembered. 

Lena had mentioned the sky wasn’t nearly as clear at the Watchpoint as it was in more rural areas with less light pollution, but your faded memory from childhood served you well enough to keep the image alive. The moon was always a bright crescent in your mind's eye, and you could very nearly see the Milky Way stretching across the dark expanse, a highlight to twinkling constellations. 

“Any particular blue you liked best, sugar? Askin’ for a friend.” 

You smiled and gave McCree a swat on his shoulder, nearly aiming too high and knocking him in the face. It wouldn’t have been the first time you miscalculated his closeness, though recently he had been compensating for such small errors by anticipating your mannerisms and laughing good-naturedly anytime your attempts went awry. 

He was a sweet man, one you enjoyed talking to on days like today. His company was always welcome, and it seemed yours was, as well. 

“The blue of the sky had to be my ultimate favorite. It amazed me to see all the different transitions throughout the day. I used to wonder how the rays from the yellow sun didn’t turn the sky around it green, or how I was able to tell the sky was still blue at night, even without the moon lending its beautiful glow. 

“Sunrises and sunsets always blew my mind, too. They were so different nearly every day and night, but no matter how many colors there were, they always melted back into blue, and I swear I was never more excited then watching it happen.” 

Your smile became sad as your mind turned to darker memories. McCree must have noticed, as his hand was smoothing over your own, fingers rough and warm and comforting. 

“After the accident, blue was the only color I thought I could see, the only _thing_ I could see, like staring at a sheet of paper with nothing else in sight. It was only ever one hue, bleak and pale when a light source was present, and darker than midnight when there was none. Now, looking back, I can’t help but wonder if blue was really what I saw, or if my body was trying to ease me into the fact that I was suddenly blind.” 

The conversation halted for a long while, McCree strangely quiet, pensive. It was in those moments that you wished you could see the man's face. Was he being contemplative? Was he sporting a frown? Perhaps he was indifferent? No, that didn’t sound much like McCree at all. 

If you had to guess, McCree was most likely just taking it all in, trying to gain perspective from your view of things, or lack thereof. He was good at that, understanding what felt hard to explain, and he was just as patient with you and your meandering words and actions. 

Jesse McCree was easily one of the best things to happen upon in your life. 

“Never thought to ask before, but with that gift of yours, do you see any colors how ya used to?” 

“I think I do,” you answered carefully, “but don’t quote me on it. It’s been so long without proper color, I’m not sure what I see even has any. But I like to think I can see muted tones, sometimes what I perceive as reds and yellows are a little brighter, like your aura. Not sure of the color, but it’s bright, and it’s warm, so I can only guess it’s close to yellow, maybe orange.” 

“No blue, I reckon? As far as bein’ able to see the color, I mean.” 

“No blue,” you confirmed. “Not anymore, at least. Most colors are just different pigments of grey. Especially blues.” 

“Funny how that works,” McCree mused, the gentle rasp of his thumb against the back of your hand as well as his pleasant drawl in your ears soothing you to the core. “Means ya wouldn’t be able to see the blue of these eyes of mine.” 

“You told me they were brown!” 

McCree chuckled at your playful indignation. 

“Hey, now, don’t mean they don’t change color of their own accord. I can barely contain them.” 

“Right, right. All those wild colors, popping up and ruining the look of your outfit for the day.” 

“I may be a man of unconventional tastes, accordin’ to damn near everyone on base, but even I know how to color-coordinate. Got my Ma and ex-Commander to thank for that.” 

The conversation fizzled out almost suddenly after that, the shift to silence nearly jarring. Had it not happened before, you would have questioned if you had said something wrong. It wasn’t what was said, per-say, but rather the memories that accompanied the conversation, much like your earlier bout of melancholy. 

You waited for the inevitable questions, ones McCree was always loath to delve into, thinking it an invasion of your talent. He was a curious man, however, and honestly so. 

“When you see the, ah, the auras and whatnot, you once told me it was like seein’ balls of light and energy, right?” 

“Well, not just balls of energy, but close. It’s a central point of a bright light, but it tends to expand a bit to sort of fit the body it encompasses, if that makes sense? I guess it’s sort of like a bodily system, like the circulatory, with the heart being at the center and pumping blood through your veins. Auras are very similar in that aspect, at least as far as I can tell, but you don’t have to be human to have one.” 

“It’s gotta be strange,” he mused, and you smiled. 

“You get used to it. It’s better than being left in the dark, so to speak.” 

“No kiddin'.” 

The following quiet lasted barely half a minute before McCree spoke up again. 

“What d'you see when you see the dead?” 

Your smile grew a fraction. Though hollow, it was genuine. 

“I see their faces as clearly as if I never lost my sight. It feels so strange, because, logically, I know I shouldn't be able to see these…these people as I do. I shouldn’t be able to see any of these things, the auras, people that have passed away, _spirits_. But I do, and they see me, and they know. 

“I don’t know how they know; maybe they can feel it, that I’m actually looking at them instead of through them, and because of that, they talk to me. Not like how we're talking now, of course. It’s like whispers in my ear, in my head, sometimes gentle, sometimes incessant. I gets very overwhelming, sometimes.” 

“How do you manage it?” McCree asked, voice sounding both awed and worried, an odd combination. 

“I don’t know. I just do. It’s all I’ve got going for me, as far as sight goes. It keeps me from being completely useless. A few headaches and mild mood swings are a small price to pay, if I’m able to help in any way.” 

“Y'ain't useless, darlin', even without your gift,” Jesse spoke gently, his hand grasping yours and raising it to his lips, where he left a lingering kiss to your knuckles. Your cheeks felt warm at the action. They always did. 

“I wouldn’t be quite as helpful if I couldn’t see what I’m able to,” you said matter-of-factly, fully aware of your capabilities due to your handicap, as well as your incapability without such a gift. 

“Now, sugarbean, you’re more ‘n just a ghost-seein' gal. Can’t say you ain’t helped me plenty enough without that magical sight of yours. Can’t lie, neither, I got a soft spot for catchin’ you when you trip up.” 

“Oh, you’re such a charmer,” you teased, laughing lightly as he chuckled along. It was brief, but you had seen the way his aura pulsed just a bit brighter with the action. 

“Ya got me on that one,” he said, voice holding the smile you couldn’t see, and then he was suddenly talking about the mission he had returned from just yesterday morning, straying from the topic of gifts and spirits to lighter conversation. You were grateful for the transition. 

It was a difficult thing, not being completely honest with a man such as Jesse McCree, knowing that he was every bit an honest man who deserved nothing less than absolute truth. 

There were certain things, however, that you weren’t sure he was ready to handle, such as the presence of twenty-six wandering spirits around the base, most having formerly operated under Overwatch during its glory days, as well as two of those wandering souls being closely attached to him. 

Both women smiled at you from over Jesse's shoulder while he talked, their hands intertwined, as they normally were. Their eyes crinkled with the genuine softness of their smiles, a pair of dark irises and a much lighter pair of grey expressing their contentedness in the darkness of your vision. 

You couldn’t help but wonder for the umpteenth time if her eyes were as blue as the daytime sky. 

Maybe Jesse would tell you about them, some day.


	2. Chapter 2

You were being followed. 

Honestly, it wasn’t anything new, nothing that hadn’t happened before while on base and in the presence of curious minds. Some of your fellow comrades had taken to making it into a game, a challenge amongst themselves to see how long it took for you to notice they were following you around. It was silly and rather amusing when you called them out after a very short few minutes, having been fully aware of their presence nearly as soon as they arrived. 

Not much to anyone's surprise, Genji held the record at a solid twenty-four minutes, and he had only ever attempted once out of his own curiosity with the “game” the others had gone on about. His longer time, however, could have been a cause of many things, such as you being distracted that day, as well as not having any of the trusting spirits within the area clueing you in on your new shadow. 

It also helped that, at the time, you had not yet been able to rightfully perceive his aura. 

It was a wonder how you let this particular game go on for several days without saying anything, though holding off felt necessary, for some reason. 

“I know you’re there,” you called out finally, fingers pausing over the Braille lettering of your book, a gift from Jesse. Silence met you for a long while after, nearly long enough that you were ready to start your book again. 

“How do you know?” came the accented voice from your far left, deeper and relatively new to your ears. You had only heard him speak very sparsely in passing in his month of being on base, after all. You wondered when you would have a chance at a more proper greeting. 

“I just do,” you answered with a shrug, marking your place in the book and setting it aside, turning your attention to your guest. “You’re Hanzo, right?” 

The man gave a quiet grunt, one you took as a confirming tone, before you continued. 

“I'm (Y/n). Sorry we haven’t had a good introduction yet. Been busy around here, though I’m sure you’ve noticed. This is the first time in nearly a week I’ve had the chance to open this book. It’s pretty good, so far.” 

“How long have you known?” 

You blinked slowly, having to backtrack just a bit at the forward bluntness. He wasn’t being rude, though he didn’t seem like he had socialized in a long while. Straight to the point, as it were. 

“Oh! Well, it took me a while, being busy and all, but I noticed you following me around three days ago, I believe? It’s hard to garner where exactly you are in a room, but your presence isn't hard to miss. You have a very strong energy. Were you following me for longer?” 

Your question went unanswered. Another long bout of silence had you fidgeting on the lounge, unsure how to handle where this conversation was going or what was wanted from the man you knew very little about. 

“You can join me, if you want. Not much else to do right now until the others get back from their mission. Unless you had plans, of course. No pressure.” 

Again, silence. You gave a small sigh, eyes darting about as you turned a bit in your seat. For a moment, you thought Hanzo had gone back into hiding, or hadn’t moved at all. You nearly jumped at the sound of his voice coming from directly across from you, where you were certain was another couch, or possibly a chair. 

“Jeez! Sorry, you just…you move really quietly! Scared me a bit, there.” 

“I’m sorry, that was not my intention,” he spoke, voice a bit more hushed, but sincere in his apology. 

“No, you’re fine, really! I just haven't learned how to follow your movement yet. Even the most quiet person makes some sort of sound, no matter how trained they are. I’ve offended a handful of people in my lifetime by saying that.” 

The conversation lulled for a short moment as you blindly stared ahead, hoping you were at least looking at the man. 

“You truly are blind,” he said, as if confirming his own findings. 

“I believe so, yeah,” you joked with a chuckle, though the humor behind your words was either lost to your company or ignored. 

“The others say you…are magic,” he spoke carefully, seemingly unsure of if he was using the right words or not. 

“Magic? Is that what they’re calling it?” 

“So that is true, as well.” 

“I wouldn’t really call it magic; it makes me sound like I do tricks for a living.” 

“What do you refer your talent as, then?” 

“Not much of a talent, though I do consider it a gift from an unfortunate accident,” you answered, small smile in place. “I lost my sight when I was twelve. Two years later, I sort of gained it back, just not how I expected. I’m blind, but I’m not. Does that make sense?” 

“What is it you see, then? I would like to understand.” 

You hesitated in answering. You had no problem with talking about your gift with anyone who was curious. This time, however, something was equal parts insisting you tell him everything as well as urging you to hold back just a bit longer. He wasn’t dangerous, not from what you were able to sense, so why were you feeling like something big was going to happen, should you continue the conversation? 

“I can see the dead,” you began slowly. “I can see their spirits as clearly as you see me, though I can’t perceive any color they may hold very well, if at all. I can also see the living’s auras, their natural inner life force, though only through certain circumstances.” 

“What do you mean? What circumstances are necessary?” 

“Auras are hard to spot without some sort of, um…familiarity, I suppose. I have to be better acquainted with another to really see it. Right now, if not for our conversation, I would have never known you were in front of me. Well, maybe not _never_ , because I’m pretty good at sensing others around me, regardless, but I can’t see you like I can see some of the others.” 

“I think I am beginning to understand,” he spoke, voice lilting almost thoughtfully at the information you were giving him. “There is a process, then, that allows you to see others in your own way.” 

“Pretty much. It’s kind of a transfer of energy, or more like a sharing of it, and I’m able to do that through touch.” 

It had taken you a long time to figure out how your gift worked, you further explained, but being the careful person you had become after the accident, you had taken extra precaution in maneuvering around people so as not to be a clumsy burden. The first aura that had blossomed into your sight was that of your caretaker, a sweet woman who went by Mrs. Barnaby, who had taken to holding your hand in newer, unfamiliar places you had yet to learn how to navigate. 

That was…definitely an experience. 

Through a lot of experimenting, you realized over the course of another half a year that touch seemed to allow you to connect with individuals in a way no one else would be able to. It allowed you to see them at their most inner level, a true personification of their person, and because of this as well as Mrs. Barnaby’s enthusiastic encouragement, you were able to find purpose again in life. 

“So far, most that have joined the reform have been more than accommodating. Soldier 76 is still a bit leery, but he's kind to announce his presence when he sees me in the room, just so I’m aware of his exact location. There are a couple newer recruits I haven’t yet been able to converse properly with, but regardless, it’s not a necessity. I’m quite capable of maneuvering around the place, and I do my best to keep a low profile, just so I don’t accidentally run into others or get in the way.” 

“I see. Thank you for explaining. I…was unsure of your involvement or usefulness within this organization. Forgive me for thinking you merely a prop to hide behind.” 

“I, uh, I appreciate the honesty,” you said, brow raised at the strange way Hanzo had described you. 

“You have been most honest and shared your story with me. It is more than I deserve, and it would be foolish not to return the favor.” 

You gave another smile, genuine and simple. The conversation once again came to a halt. Though it felt complete, there was still something that hung in the air, coaxing for more to happen. That feeling of something bigger in the works was much stronger, pulling more insistently at your mind, cocooning your thoughts in gentle urging pulses. 

_All will be well. Trust. You will see. Trust. Reach out._

“Hanzo,” you blurted out, clearing your throat and starting again more calmly. “If you, maybe, wanted to, or didn’t mind…if it's okay, would it be alright if I-?” 

You paused suddenly, a bright flash catching the corner of your eye and having you look in its direction as it approached. You couldn’t help but compare the familiar aura entering the room to that of a fire, warm and comforting in its intensity. Offhandedly, you realized you hadn’t heard the familiar chime of spurs with each step the new presence made. 

“Jesse! You’re back from California! How was the mission?” 

“Not as glamorous as comin' home to you, sugar,” McCree started, sounding worn but just as equally pleased with his smooth talking. You chuckled, all the same. 

“The view was nice, but the guy runnin’ the payload was a full blown jackass and a half. Almost got his head blown off when he- oh! Sorry there, partner, didn’t see ya.” 

“I was just leaving,” Hanzo spoke curtly, his voice carrying a stiff note to it that it hadn’t held before. The air felt suddenly electric and hostile. You gave a small frown at the unpleasant change. Even the spirits following McCree were frowning, though both women seemed much more knowledgeable as to why things had turned sour so quickly. 

“Thank you, (Y/n), for your company.” 

“I should be thanking you,” you said, genuine in your words. “I hope to see you around base? Or, well…you know.” 

You gave a somewhat nervous laugh, not at all expecting the answer that followed. 

“Perhaps, one day, you shall.” 

In a short few seconds, Hanzo's presence left the room, as did the strange pull of something _more_ that had lingered between you, that nagging feeling that you wished you understood better. The atmosphere wasn’t so stiff anymore, either, and you let out a huffing breath in relief. 

It seemed the partners following McCree were put to ease as well, their postures more relaxed and grey and black eyes looking to you as if to say all was well. 

Jesse gave a low whistle, his aura pulsing brightly as he plopped down in the free space next to you on the sofa. 

“Tell you what, them Shimadas got a right mean stare. Though I’m inclined to say Hanzo's is meaner. He don’t like me much.” 

“You barely know each other,” you voiced aloud almost incredulously. “How did you get on such bad terms so quickly?” 

“Long story short, I stepped out of line on behalf of Genji. Wasn’t my line to cross, but I'm not always the level-headed sharpshooter you all know and love. First impressions tend to stick, and mine wasn’t as welcomin’ as some of the others.” 

You gave a click of your tongue, chastising with a shake of your head, though smiling through it. 

“There's always room for a second chance, you know. In fact, I’m inclined to say you'll both come around real soon, and you'll be good friends before you know it.” 

McCree gave an amused snort at the notion. 

“Now, what makes you say somethin’ like that?” 

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a light shrug of your shoulders, eyes catching the twin looks of curiosity and interest looking your way, “just a feeling.” 

“That's what I like about you, sugarbean, always seein’ the good in people.” 

“Well, not like I can see much else around here.” 

McCree couldn’t help the ugly snort that left him at your blunt reply, his laughter shaking the couch for a short moment. 

“You hush, now! Settin’ me up like that, you sneaky thing!” 

“Hey, I call ‘em as I see ‘em, or...well, you get it.” 

“Oh, honey, you gotta stop! My poor heart can’t take it!” 

This time, you couldn’t help but laugh along, falling comfortably into light banter with the sharpshooter, as you so often did. It was always a wonderful feeling to have him beside you, talking and laugh and teasing each other with playful words and light touches. It was so easy to fall into that sort of comfort with him, no matter the time of day or how long you had both been together or apart. 

You wished sometimes that you could see him smile. You wondered which of the women bound to him he favored more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your interest in this idea of mine! I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> As always, see ya in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A peek into how Reader interacts with spirits. Just one of many ways.
> 
> This turned out longer than expected!
> 
> Enjoy, you guys!

Missions for you were always scouting and intel, as your skills were somewhat limited when it came to weapons, and you were always with a partner, of which you had no issues with. You knew how to fight and defend yourself using hand-to-hand combat, and you were rather good at it, but that could only get you so far, and the enemy most likely wouldn’t bat an eye at taking aim at a blind person. Not that you couldn’t shoot a gun, of course, but your aim was, unsurprisingly, terrible, and almost comically so. 

You weren’t sure if Winston had fully forgiven you just yet for almost shooting him in the leg the one and only time you had wandered into the practice range. 

So, undercover work, it was. 

You felt rather breezy in the light summer dress Hana had picked out for you, the young woman claiming it would be comfortable as well as stylish, perfect for the roll you had taken on as the fiancé of a wealthy businessman. Your hair had been pinned up in a tightly braided bun, hidden away under the wide brim of a flimsy sunhat that was more for decoration than anything else. Large sunglasses veiled your sensitive eyes from the brightness around you as you walked, arm linked with that of McCree’s own. 

He'd complained only briefly about the suit he was required to wear, seemingly more put off that he wasn’t able to adorn his hat, though his fussing was more for show rather than being truly upset. You had enjoyed Hana’s own complaining when she was fixing his hair into a more suitable style necessary for the look. The final product must have been something, because several others had commented they barely recognized McCree. 

The mission would be much easier that way. 

It was simple enough: take notice of all outside entrances, gather intel about anything entering or exiting the building as well as the happenings going on within, and leave without anyone knowing the wiser. You'd done several missions like this before, and they had all been a piece of cake. So far, this one was looking to be just as easy. 

You leaned against McCree's arm briefly, looking up as if gazing at him lovingly. There was the barest squeeze of his arm muscles against your trapped hand, the flex intentional and meant to show he was paying attention. 

“How close are we?” you questioned. 

“Got the buildin' on your right, sugar,” he explained, leaning down a bit to hush his voice from the bustling crowds around them. “There's a little café right across the street, real fancy-like with an outside deck. We'll take watch from there. You seein’ any helpers?” 

“Got a few in my sight,” you answered with a smile, fully aware of the handful of spirits that had taken interest in you briefly as you passed them by. 

McCree continued to lead you a bit further, the smell of freshly baked goods and the warm aroma of coffee and tea wafting through the air. He was careful in leading you over the threshold of the café, of which he must have visited before as his current alter-ego, because the waitress was quick to welcome him back with a smile to her words. 

You were then led to the terrace, the sun shining warmly on you briefly before being shielded by what you could only guess was an overhead umbrella extended above your table. Orders were taken and retrieved in a matter of minutes, and you were left once more in the company of your loving fiancé for the day. 

“How many times have you been through this area?” you asked, genuinely curious as you took a sip from the cappuccino you ordered. It was very good, if a bit warmer than you would have liked for such a warm day. 

“No more than a handful. Gotta build up reputation, keep up appearances and all that. Helps to keep any suspicions down, though I can say I hardly recognize myself when I’m like this. Gonna be a while before I look normal again.” 

“How so? Hana do that good of a job taming your luscious locks?” you teased, placing down your hot beverage and reaching out across the table. McCree was quick to take hold of your hand, leather-covered fingers fiddling with the fake engagement ring adorning your finger. 

“Somethin' like that,” he answered with a tease in his words, gloved hand gently capturing your own and pulling it higher. You expected the kiss on your knuckles, just above the faux, gaudy jewelry no doubt flashing brilliantly for all to see. What you hadn’t expected was the smooth glide of skin against skin, lips unhindered by familiar scruff against cheeks and chin. 

“You shaved,” you gasped, unable to hide the surprise in your words. You could feel his smile press into your skin as he planted several more kisses to the back of your hand, his aura pulsing brighter before you. 

“Gotta keep up appearances,” he repeated, releasing his gentle grip and chuckling when your hand immediately pressed to the smooth contours of his face. 

“And you call me cheeky! How dare you keep secrets.” 

“Didn't know it would be of any interest,” he responded as he leaned into your touch. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at the smooth texture of his skin, feeling just the barest pickle of fine hairs right along the bottom of his jaw. In a couple hours, it would be shadowed with the hairs and be much rougher because of it. 

“It’s so strange,” you said, fascinated with the change. You could only imagine how he looked, ruggedly handsome with kind eyes and a mischievous smile, all sleek lines and adoration. It made your stomach do weird flips, thinking like that. 

“A good strange, I sure hope,” he responded, turning just so to leave a lingering press of his lips into your palm, and _that_ was quite the sensation. 

“Of course, though there is a certain charm in your- oh, hello there, little one.” 

You turned ever-so-slightly to meet the gaze of a little boy, his smile shy as he clutched at a stuffed giraffe. His hair was a mess, and his shirt was too big on his little frame, draping over him and nearly off one shoulder. There was the barest glimmer of gnarled flesh along his left eye, a glimpse of a gunshot wound that took his sight from that one socket, and most likely his life, before it disappeared to show his wide gaze completely focused on you. 

He couldn’t have been any older than five in appearance, though it was a wonder how long he had been gone from the realm of the living. 

“See someone?” McCree murmured as he took hold of your hand once more and dropped it comfortably against the table, eyes darting to the side and finding no one there. 

“Little boy,” you spoke quietly, keeping your smile light to suggest you were in light spirits while speaking to your fiancé. Your stomach was twisting for a whole other reason, now. He was so young. 

_‘Brody. My name...Brody,’_ the little boy spoke, mouth unmoving but words clear as day in your mind, if a bit stunted by the effort and energy needed to speak. He shifted on his feet, large eyes darting down to look at his stuffed toy. 

_‘Milford. My favorite.’_

“Your favorite toy?” you asked, receiving an enthusiastic nod. “He's lovely, Brody. Such a nice giraffe.” 

You glanced back over at McCree’s aura, watching it flutter apprehensively. It made him nervous, not being able to see what you could. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Are you lost? Do you need help?” 

_‘Mommy…Daddy…gone long time. I know why. Bad things happened. Bad…people…big building.’_

He pointed off somewhere behind him, and you could only guess he was referring to the building McCree had mentioned earlier, the target of your undercover mission. 

“Do you know what they do inside?” 

_‘Medicine…not good. Made people sick. Guns. The gun lady knows.'_

“Gun lady?” you murmured, your words causing McCree’s aura to darken. He was focusing, keeping calm, though his mindset was in battle-mode, and he was waiting to strike, should he need to. 

_‘The gun lady knows. Likes to be…high, like…birds. Up high, on roofs. Knows Marcus Flinch…here. Up there…bad building. She knows. Watching. Waiting. Like birds.’_

You tensed at the name Brody gave you, feeling the icy chill of fear spread across your skin when he pointed behind him once more, up much higher and towards the sky. McCree must have noticed the change in your demeanor, because he was calling your name, the one given to you on your mission file. 

“Lillian, honey, are you alright?” 

“I, ah, I'm feeling a bit dizzy. This heat must be getting to me. Maybe…maybe coffee wasn’t such a good idea.” 

You made to stand up quickly, purposefully allowing your knees to buckle with the motion. Sharp gasps and concerned cries filled the terrace upon your fall, though McCree was quick to catch you, one arm looping around your waist as the other lifted you from underneath your thighs and into his hold. 

“Make way, make way!” someone shouted as McCree carried you inside quickly, the sound of others following behind you easing your fear, though only slightly. You were surely causing a commotion, but many were eager to help, ensuring you were led to a quiet, comfortable area and given the utmost care before backing off. Even the waitress from earlier came over, handing over what you assumed to be a cold glass of water. 

“Thank you, kindly. Sorry we're bein’ such a bother. My poor Lillian is sensitive to the elements, unfortunately.” 

“It's no trouble, Mr. Flinch. If there’s anything else we can do for either of you, just let me or any of the wait staff know. Take all the time you need.” 

There was a quiet click of a door shutting, and you were once more alone with McCree. You couldn’t help but let out a shuddering breath, sipping from the glass of water and nearly fumbling it in your grip. McCree helped you drink with a steady hand aiding yours, taking the glass from you afterward and placing it somewhere off to the side. 

“Hey, you’re alright, now,” he cooed gently, gloved hands on your face and skimming over your coiled hair. You don’t remember losing your hat, but it must have fallen off while McCree was carrying you. 

“Sugar, you’re shakin’ like a leaf! What the hell happened back there?” 

“Sniper,” you began quietly, not wanting to raise your voice, lest you weren’t as alone as you thought. “There’s a sniper, on the roof. They know we're here. Brody told me.” 

“The boy you were seein'?” he questioned. You gave a nod of your head. 

“Whatever they’re doing, it’s pharmaceutical-based, possibly experimentation, injections, I don’t know. He was saying something about ‘bad medicine’ and mentioned guns. And the sniper.” 

“Calm down, sugarbean, you're safe in here,” McCree urged, one hand moving to hold your own. You were quick to latch on with both hands, squeezing tightly as you trembled and tried desperately to fight off the panic rising in your body. 

“There was a sniper on the roof, watching us, and I…I can’t _see,_ Jesse! I can’t see! What am I even doing here? I can’t do a damn thing if things go wrong, and I can’t warn you, or save you, or…or anything! Why am I _here?!_ ” 

“You hush, now,” McCree said, voice firm, demanding your attention. “You’re here because you can see things no one else can. I didn’t see a sniper, and I was lookin’ real good, just in case. We would have never known, if not for your gift. That little boy could see for you, and was kind enough to warn you.” 

“It’s not enough! It's not _enough!_ ” you gasped, tears springing to your eyes. You were losing yourself in your panic, quickly, effortlessly. Everything was suddenly too dark in your meager vision, no entities to be seen, no other auras besides McCree’s own, and even that was growing dark and splotchy as you clung to the man's arm and tried vainly to take in breaths that could not fill your desperate, seizing lungs. 

“(Y/n), honey, you gotta calm down for me, okay? Listen real close to me, focus on my voice. I’m right here with you, just me. It’s just you and me, and we're right here in this here room. You’ve got a strong hold on my hand, sugar, can you feel that? Can you squeeze my hand? There ya go. Now, take a deep breath, and let it out real slow. In, and out. Keep goin' for me, you got it.” 

Slowly, with the help of McCree instructing you, you were able to come down from your panic attack. You were able to breathe much easier after a few minutes, and your trembling had lessened considerably. What was left was the cold sweat of a bad meltdown and the tears that still clung to your cheeks and lashes, as well as the embarrassment of the whole ordeal. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you said quietly, words nearly a whisper as you removed the sunglasses on your face and wiped at your pale eyes. “I don’t know what came over me, I-” 

“It's alright, sugar. It happens, more often than you'd think.” 

“I broke character,” you murmured meekly, feeling ashamed for your sudden lapse in consideration for the mission. 

“Ain’t no one else here. It’s like it never happened,” he said with a lilt to his voice, causing you to give a short laugh and a small sniffle. “I'll call in an evac, get ourselves out of here before we start seemin’ suspicious.” 

“But, the mission-” 

“We got enough for now, more ‘n what we would’ve got with anyone else on the job. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, sugarbean. You just take it easy.” 

You gave a small nod as McCree pulled out his phone, quickly sending out an alert and receiving a call shortly after. His aura, now much brighter in your vision, was pulsing erratically all the while, even as his voice remained smooth and calm. 

From beside him stood Brody, his presence just as sudden as when you were both out on the terrace, though a bit more startling this time. He gave a sort of frown before smiling up at you. 

_‘You're okay. Alive. Gun lady can’t hurt…now. Not you. Plans. They know. Want to…learn.’_

“Learn what?” you whispered, McCree too busy on the phone to hear you. Brody shrugged, giving a confused face. 

_‘Learn…how you know. Curious. They…like you. How they…liked me.’_

You were able to see that glimmer of a head injury once again, the mess of his eye, the gore of blood and muscle and brain matter seeping into the eye socket as if it rightfully belonged there. Graphic. Disgusting. Horrifying. 

If that was what happened to the people they liked, you wanted no part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the continued interest and support! Im glad you guys are enjoying this idea as much as I am!
> 
> As always, see ya in the next chapter!


End file.
